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    Summary

    Something about the stupid little misunderstanding of a question made Abbacchio’s blood boil. Of course she doesn’t write music. What about Abbacchio made it seem like she could ever write good lyrics? Shitty poetry from years ago was the closest she’s ever got.
    “Sometimes.”
    Liar.
    “Do you write lyrics? What kind of stuff?” Giorno kept asking, with genuine interest. It made Abbacchio painfully angry. What was she supposed to say? No, she has no interest in music and came to LA just to drink the rest of her life away?




    Bruno Bucciarati is a well-known singer who hosts parties at his house every Sunday. He prays music can save them all.





    trigger warnings for alcoholism and drug use. this fic is about music and recovery, i hope maybe it helps some people <3


    Language:
    English
    Words:
    3,492
    Chapters:
    2/?
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    Kudos:
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